Jimmy Ford had no mom or dad
Because of that he was always sad
But if your old man shot himself in the head,
wouldn't you wish you were also dead?
In the sixth grade, Stu Baker read those four lines in front of the class as part of their poetry unit in English. His teacher, Mrs. Hamilton, sat at her desk with her mouth dropped opened. A few kids giggled. Others looked over at their shoulders at the small blond-haired boy in the back desk.
Little Jimmy Ford showed no response to Stu's ode to Jimmy's dead parents; it was expected.
Mrs. Hamilton gave Stu Baker an "F" and sent him to the principal's office.
After school, a man walking his dog found Stu Baker in the woods behind the school. His nose had been broken and his lips busted. Later, the doctor would find a cracked rib and bruises on the boy's stomach.
No one ever found out who was responsible.
"Dear Mr. Sawyer…"
Sawyer fucked women like he lived his life.
Hard and fast.
Except when he was a job. Those women needed special attention and care. He took his time on the broken ones. The ones with broken marriages, broken hearts, broken spirits.
Sawyer was broken too. The only difference between him and his jobs was that he took their splintered pieces and added it to his pile of fragments.
After he fell from the sky.
After he was tied, bleeding, to a tree.
After the knife in his arm and the bullet in his shoulder—
That was when he finally realized what it was like to feel whole.
He wandered in the jungle. Not searching. Just wandering.
He knew he was being followed, but he kept walking. With each step he took, she took one after him. With each swing of his arm, she swung hers. He was pretty sure that even their breathing was in sync.
He ran a hand through his hair. A tad shorter at the ends thanks to Freckles. He had joked about her cutting off his ear, but she had been careful. Too careful in his opinion. It made him nervous to see her like that, moving the scissors around his neck without wanting to stick it in. She took her time cutting his hair. Her fingertips brushed against the nape of his neck, over his scalp, and under his earlobes. After she was done, she leaned over and asked, "How does that feel?"
He smiled at her. "Good."
He smiled again in the jungle thinking about the haircut. It was time to stop. He took out a water bottle and tipped it over his open mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her in the tall trees. She saw him too.
"How long were you gonna stay back there, Freckles?" he asked.
"Until now." Kate stepped out of the brush and into the walkway towards him. "Where are you going?"
He shrugged. "Just trying to get reacquainted with the home I thought I left behind." He offered her the water bottle. She shook her head. "Not much has changed."
Kate gave him a tiny smile. "You were only gone for a few days."
"Hell, if you were stuck in the middle of the ocean on a piece of wood, days seem like years, sweetheart," he said.
"I'm glad you're back," she said softly, then, "I'm glad you're all back."
His brows knitted, but he didn't push her for an explanation.
"I think you should go back to the camp," Kate said. "Jack probably wants to check up on you."
"I'm fine," he said, sticking out his chest.
She cocked her head to one side. "Sawyer…"
He rolled his eyes. "Alright, Freckles, if you insist."
This time they walked through the jungle side by side.
Jack wasn't waiting for him; Sawyer knew that. But after Kate asked the doc to check on Sawyer, he made time for the injured man.
"Your arm still giving you problems?" Jack asked as he removed the old gauze around Sawyer's gunshot wound.
Sawyer hissed. "It was doing okay."
Jack glanced at Kate, who was standing at the other side of the room in the hatch. "Can you hand me that bottle?"
She picked up the clear plastic bottle and gave it to Jack. "Is it healing up?"
Jack looked over the wound and poured the liquid on it. Sawyer lowered his head as it burned his skin.
"Don't feel like it," Sawyer said through gritted teeth.
"Look at where we're at, Sawyer," Jack said. "It's gonna take a lot longer for that to heal here."
"Ain't you a miracle worker, Doc?" Sawyer asked with a lopsided grin.
Jack finished tending to his wound and wrapped up his shoulder again. "The fever's gone, isn't it?" He stood up and proceeded to the door, pausing in front of Kate. "He's fine."
"Thanks," she said.
After Jack was gone, Sawyer looked up Kate from the bed. "Told you so."
She crossed her arms and sat down at the chair Jack had just vacated. "It doesn't hurt to make sure."
"I'm tough," he said. "You don't need to worry about me."
"I'm tough. You don't need to worry about me."
"Come on, Jimmy. Let me see that scrape on your knee."
"This is ridiculous." Sawyer rummaged through the shelves inside the hatch. He found boxes of instant potatoes, instant pudding, instant this, instant that, but no cigarettes.
"Maybe it's a sign."
He looked through the shelves to see Kate in the other aisle. "What sign?"
"That it's time to quit smoking," she said with a smirk.
He narrowed his eyes. "For your information, I was looking for this." He picked up the nearest box and read the label. "Hemorrhoid cream."
Kate giggled. "Riight."
He slammed the box back down. "Fine. You caught me."
She started walking down the aisle. "You hungry?"
"I want a damn cigarette." He walked to the end of his aisle and turned into hers. "Now, how'd you figure the people here before us survived without lighting up one?"
She scanned the contents on the shelves. "Well, they're not here anymore. Does that answer your question?" She picked up a box. "Does turkey sound good to you? Just add water."
Sawyer grabbed the box from her hands. "I've got a better idea."
Sawyer finished peeling the banana and gave it to Kate. She accepted it with a smile and leaned back against the tree's trunk.
"We can't take this to go?" she asked.
"You in a hurry?"
"It was a little warmer in the hatch."
"Is that your main concern?" He looked around the darkening jungle as the sun began to set. "Do I have to remind you about the crazies who took Walt? Or the monster? Or the polar bears?"
"You scared, Sawyer?" Her voice was light.
"Hell, yeah, I am." His tone was much more serious.
The twinkle vanished from her eyes. "Why are you scared?"
His gaze moved into the trees. "Cuz I don't know what's out there."
Sawyer learned at an early age that he had to protect himself. After his mother stuffed him under his bed, he knew eventually he would have to make himself get out from under there.
Sawyer was just learning how to do that. Bit by bit. He was also learning how to protect the people around him as well.
Little Jimmy Ford was growing up after all.
The first team he went with included Locke, Kate, Jack, and Michael. The second time it was Michael, Kate, Jin, and the big guy, Hurley. Now, the third team with Kate, Michael, Sayid, and Jack returned. They always left the same and came back the same—without Walt.
Sawyer would give anything, even get shot again, just to have a cigarette right now.
"We'll try again," he said to Michael. "We'll find him, Mike."
In the morning, Sawyer met with the new team: Kate, Michael, Jin, and Sayid. They made their way into the jungle. Kate always insisted on coming with him. Everyday he went, there she was with her backpack and her ponytail.
Sawyer kept one hand on Kate's waist as she walked behind him, the other in the air in front of him as they weaved through green grass. He heard a branch snap. He motioned for Kate to stand still as he went to investigate. He dropped his hand from Kate and into the gun tucked into his back pocket. He heard another rustle. Spinning around, he saw a black boar run out from under him.
"Shit," he muttered.
When he looked up, he panicked. Kate was gone. He ran back to the spot where he had left her.
"Kate!"
Her name echoed in the quiet jungle. He yelled it again. His heart raced and his mind became cluttered with thoughts. Not another one. Can't lost her too. Can't lost her. Can't—
"I'm right here." She appeared next to him, confused.
"Don't do that again." He grabbed her shoulders. "Why'd you take off for?"
She almost looked frightened by him. "I heard something too. It was just a boar."
Sawyer let go of her, lowering his head. "Same here."
She bowed her chin to look at him. "You okay, Sawyer?"
He took in a deep breath and stalked out of the clearing, ignoring her question. "Time to check in."
Sawyer stared into the fire he just made. In the red flames, he saw his mother's sprawled body next to his father's corpse. He could smell the gun powder and the blood. In another flame, he felt the rain of his face and heard the smacking of the mud that stuck to the bottom of his shoes as he ran away from the innocent man he just killed.
Then, the words:
wouldn't you wish you were also dead?
Dear Mr. Sawyer…
Dead.
Sawyer.
"Hey."
Sawyer didn't look up to acknowledge Kate. She must have taken his silence as an invitation to sit down.
"You been out here since we got back?" she asked.
Again, he kept quiet.
"I didn't know we were playing a game," she said with an annoyed sigh.
He looked over the fire at her. "Sorry, Freckles, don't feel like talking, that's all."
After a moment, she said, "It's not the jungle that scares you, is it?" She moved around to his side and sat down next to him. "You didn't fail me out there today, okay? I wasn't in any danger."
"You don't know about tomorrow," he mumbled.
"We can't control these things, Sawyer. Bad things happen."
He shifted his gaze from the ground to her. "Tell me why."
"So that we know what a good thing is when we see one." She touched the back of his head. "Like this haircut."
His mouth twitched. He had to smile. "You ain't ever gonna quit with that, are you?"
She kept her hand at the base of his neck. "I don't remember hearing you thanking me for it."
"Why should I thank you when it was your idea?"
She laughed.
For Sawyer, that was enough to make him forget about fear.
THE END